We Who Don't
by Ellex
Summary: Tag scene for SG1 The Pegasus Project: a conversation between McKay and Carter.


SG-1/SGA crossover, spoilers for SG-1 "The Pegasus Project"

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Author's Note: This was inspired by the last few lines of a poem about Mae West by American poet Edward Field. I found it in Garrison Keillor's "Good Poems" anthology.

**Every word and look and movement**

**spells Independence:**

**she likes being herself.**

**And we who don't**

**can only look on, astonished.**

OOOOOOOOOO

Rodney looked up in surprise as Carter sat down next to him at the main control console overlooking the Gate Room.

"So," she said quietly, "a partially-clothed hallucination of me helped save your life, huh?" She sounded a little hesitant, her eyes fixed on the screen of the laptop on the console before her.

He could feel his face growing hot. "Um – it wasn't as – as – kinky as it sounds. I was concussed and hypothermic and very wet at the time. And it was just your shirt." He caught the sideways look she shot at him. "You were wearing a bra! And I was in shock and up to my neck in freezing sea-water, so –" His breath caught in his throat, and suddenly he was_ there_ again, the ocean and the cold and the walls of the PuddleJumper pressing relentlessly in on him, the harsh sound of his own breath and his chattering teeth echoing in his ears.

He shoved back his chair and stumbled blindly away. Somehow he managed to find his way out onto the balcony, and clutched, white-knuckled, at the railing, drawing in huge gulps of air. He didn't realize how much he was shaking or how cold he was until he felt a hand on his arm, burning hot against his skin.

"Slow, deep breaths, Rodney. It's over, you're safe."

"I know," he whispered, closing his eyes as the fear drained away and left him limp and exhausted. He turned and slid down the balcony wall to sit with his back against it. "I know," he repeated, sensing rather than hearing her sit beside him. "It's a stupid thing to keep having flashbacks about – you'd think I'd be over it by now, but I was a prisoner on a Hive ship a couple of weeks ago, and it – it was totally different, but it kind of – kind of brought it all back to the surface." He swallowed hard, feeling the burn of bile in the back of his throat. "God, I'm pathetic. You don't have to tell me, I already know it. I just can't seem to get over it." He crossed his arms over his upraised knees and rested his forehead on them.

A moment later, he felt the small, strong hand on his arm again, although this time it was comfortingly warm rather than hot.

"You're not pathetic, Rodney. You're a jerk sometimes, but you aren't pathetic at all."

He let out a small, weary sound that could have been a laugh.

"There's nothing scarier than being trapped and alone," she continued. "Believe me, I know. It's happened to me more than once, and those are the times I have nightmares about."

Rodney raised his head to stare at her. "I find it hard to believe that you have nightmares, Colonel Carter."

She smiled. "I'm not that tough, McKay. No one is. Mitchell, Teal'c, Daniel…we've all experienced things that are hard to get past. You just keep working through it, and after a while it really does get better. It takes time, and there'll be things that bring it right back to the surface, as fresh and painful as ever, but the memories do fade."

His mouth twisted bitterly. "I'm sure it helps if you're not claustrophobic to begin with."

"Yeah," she sighed, "that probably helps. But I've read your mission reports, Rodney. You've been able to get past your fears before. I know you can do it again, and keep on doing it." She rose to her feet and extended a hand. "I'd be proud to have you on my team any day, McKay. I'd trust you with my life."

He looked up into her face, searching her eyes for evidence that she was mocking him, but saw only sober conviction. Rodney reached out for her hand and allowed her to pull him to his feet.

"Thanks," he whispered, ducking his head away from that clear gaze that always made him feel stripped naked of his emotional defenses.

She held his hand firmly a moment longer, a gesture between equals, meaning so much more than the slightly condescending kiss on the cheek. Then she let go, but before she turned away, she told him with a grin, "But I wouldn't trust you with my virtue."

fin


End file.
